Shards of Darkness
by Not Enough Answers
Summary: I had no bloody idea how I'd gotten caught up in all this. I wasn't brave, intelligent or cunning. I didn't belong here—so why hadn't I run away when I still had the chance? Albus Potter/OC
1. In Which I Trip Yet Again

**The idea for this story has been in my head for quite a while now, but I didn't begin to write it until recently. I've never tried to write Next Gen before, and I'm quite nervous about it. Hopefully it will be a bit different from the usual Albus/OC stories, since the majority of it won't take place at Hogwarts. Anyway, I'm not sure how quick the updates will be as of yet, but it's going to be a very long story, and I promise I will finish it! Let me know if you want it to be continued.**

**DISCLAIMER: I am a broke Canadian teenager, not a middle-aged British billionaire.**

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, being short is _not _all it's cracked up to be. It's not cute, or endearing, or any other adjective which is used to describe the vertically challenged. Frankly, it's quite a nuisance, having to always stand on your tiptoes to see the same sights everybody else can see without having to move a muscle. It's also rather grating when people can't seem to stop saying, "Oh, aren't you adorable!" and patting your head as if you were a baby—not to mention rather bruising to your ego when you're in sixth year and ninety percent of the first years are taller than you.

I'd accepted long ago that I would never reach my dream height of five feet—instead I was doomed to hover at four eleven for the rest of my life. It was as if Fate had cruelly decided to taunt me.

I'd once joked that I would sell my sanity to grow just one more inch, and my best friend, Alice Longbottom, had snapped at me, saying that if my biggest problem was being short then I'd better count myself lucky. She rarely became angry, so after her outburst I had dropped the matter. She did have a point, though: seeing as how her grandparents had literally been tortured out of their minds—one of whom she was named after—jokes of that nature were probably out of line.

Still…

It would be nice to grow two and a half more centimetres. But seeing as how I was sixteen and my height hadn't changed in the past seven years, it was safe to assume I was finished growing.

I didn't have very good balance, either. You would think that the smaller I was, the better my balance would be.

No such luck.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, would you?"

"S—sorry," I squeaked as I picked myself up off the floor, not making eye contact with the seventh-year Slytherin I had just run into. It figured I had tripped over my own luggage the second I had climbed onto the Hogwarts Express.

"Bloody first-years," I heard the Slytherin mutter as he walked away. I didn't feel the need to shout back that I was a sixth-year, thank you very much. It wasn't as if he would listen anyway.

Pulling myself ungracefully to my feet, I grabbed my luggage handle in one hand and my Siamese cat, Droobles, in the other, who was yowling loudly. "Oh, shut up," I muttered, stuffing the disgruntled cat back into his cage. "It was an accident."

Moving more cautiously, I slowly made my way to the compartment where I knew Alice would be waiting, since she undoubtedly _hadn't _tripped and sent half her belongings into every which direction on her way onto the train. Trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my right shin, I pushed open the door to where I had spotted Alice sitting with the three other girls in our dorm—Grace Wood, Paige Creevey, and Lauren Finch-Fletchley.

Unlike the other three Houses, which often had rivalry and enmity between their dorm mates, the five of us in Hufflepuff had become friends for life, as was typical of the House. We knew all of each other's secrets and would probably even die for each other. Let it never be said that Hufflepuffs aren't loyal.

"Oh, look who finally decided to walk in," Alice teased. "Forgot where the platform was, Charlotte?"

I glared at her, but seeing as how she was still standing up it only came out looking comical. Alice was the freakishly tall to my freakishly short. She'd always towered over the boys, and I barely came up to her shoulders. "I tripped," I mumbled.

Everyone shared knowing glances. "Of course you did," Grace smirked.

Mumbling incoherently, I stuffed my luggage into the rack and sat down beside Lauren. The girls quickly resumed their previous conversation and I tried to tune in.

"Have you _seen _James lately?" Paige was asking. "I saw him in London during the summer and I just about fainted."

"It should be illegal for someone to be that attractive," Lauren agreed.

"Are you talking about James Potter?" I asked.

"Who else?" Paige snorted.

I supposed I shouldn't have been too surprised. James Potter was a seventh-year Gryffindor, a year above us, and the captain of the Quidditch team. He was very handsome, I supposed, with auburn hair and mischievous hazel eyes, but he also had a reputation for being a notorious flirt and a womanizer. To be quite honest, I'd fancied him in second year, but there was no way he would even look twice at a mousy Hufflepuff like me, so that dream had eventually faded into oblivion. But apparently the other girls had more hope than I did.

"We were over at the Potters' house for dinner in July, and I think he was flirting with me," Alice said, leaning forward. The other girls grinned enthusiastically, as if being invited to the Potters' house was a common occurrence. But for them, I supposed it was.

I was the only Muggle-born in the group, so I was, as usual, left out. There was really no issue with being Muggle-born in Hogwarts now—even the Slytherins were less prejudiced than they had once been. But I had read stories about the First and Second Wizarding Wars that had occurred not too long ago…and I had whispered, "_I'm a Mudblood_" to myself several times. All in all, however, I'd never been insulted or made to feel inferior about it. When it came to social matters, though, I was usually out of the loop, since the other girls' families had all known each other for years.

My parents had been bemused when I'd received my Hogwarts letter (I had nearly had a heart attack when I'd woken up in the middle of the night to see a huge barn owl tapping at the window; that incident had therefore cemented my fear of owls which was sure to haunt me the rest of my life) and more than a little bit nervous. They weren't at all curious about the magical world, and preferred to live in their own protected bubble of mundanity. They hardly wrote letters to me, and when I came home for summer holidays everyone pretended I wasn't "abnormal", as I'd once overheard my father referring to me as. I had an older sister, Amelia, whom I'd used to be very close with, but after I'd started attending Hogwarts and she'd moved to some far-flung African country, our relationship had disintegrated and now we only saw each other a couple of times a year.

I sometimes felt like I was destined to drift on the cusp of the wizarding world forever—technically part of it, but not quite belonging. Similarly, I always fell quiet when people talked about their Sorting. From what I'd heard, the Hat seemed to talk to most people…in fact, everyone but me. When my name had been called, I'd stumbled up to the stool, nearly tripping over my too-long robes in the process, and had barely sat down when it screamed out "HUFFLEPUFF!" Just like that. Now I usually stayed silent when everyone tried comparing what the Hat had said to them.

"Hey! Char!" I blinked to see the other girls staring at me.

"What?" I asked stupidly.

Paige rolled her eyes. "Weren't you _listening_? Don't you agree that James is just the most delectable thing you've ever laid eyes on?"

"Sure," I agreed, since I had the feeling they would eat me alive if I disagreed.

This was going to be a _long _trip.


	2. In Which I Stare At Albus Potter

I was nearly asleep by the time we finally reached Hogwarts, the rocking movement of the train lulling me into sleep. My friends' voices had faded into one indecipherable murmur, and I was pleasantly dreaming of my warm, comfortable bed in the Hufflepuff dormitory when I was rudely awoken by the ear-piercing screech of brakes as the train halted.

"Are we there already?" I slurred, still disoriented. The other girls all laughed and shuffled out of the compartment one by one, only pausing to shoot me sympathetic glances. Alice was the only one waiting for me.

"So how was your summer?" she asked as we filed out of the train and hopped down onto the leaf-strewn platform. An unseasonably cold autumn wind blew through Hogsmeade as we rushed toward the carriages, shivering.

I shrugged. "Fine. My parents ignored me as usual." I tried to sound nonchalant, but my acting wasn't superb—although I had dealt with it for the past six years, being shunned by my family was sometimes difficult to handle. "I did get a letter from Amelia, though. She's now living in Tanzania—or was it Tunisia? Somewhere like that."

Alice smiled. "If things get too rough, you can always stay at my place, you know."

I grinned back at her. "Thanks." I'd spent a week at her flat the summer before fourth year—she was an only child, so we had pretended we were sisters the entire visit. Her father, Neville Longbottom, was the Herbology professor, and her mother, Hannah, was the landlady of the Leaky Cauldron, a wizarding pub in London. Although their flat was small, I still considered it the best vacation I'd ever had.

The carriages were just beginning to pull away when Alice and I reached them. Apparently picking one randomly, she threw open the door and we climbed in, apologizing profusely to those already inside.

Alice suddenly froze in place, and I had to literally push her aside so I could get a better look at who had made her turn into a living statue. My mouth fell open when I met the bright hazel eyes of James Potter himself, who was grinning impishly as if he knew we had been gossiping about him on the train.

"Hello there," he said, surveying us with the self-assured superiority only a pampered Gryffindor could pull off. "I guess I didn't hear you knock."

For I second I wondered why he would care if we knocked, until it dawned on me that he was sitting with a pretty fifth-year Ravenclaw, who was clutching onto his arm and scowling at us. "No, I'm sorry, this was the closest carriage," I apologized, unable to look him in the eye. "We can leave if you want—"

"Nah, don't worry about it," he said, winking at Alice. "How are you, darling?"

"F—fine, James," she stammered. I elbowed her in the ribs, and she blurted out, "This is my friend, Charlotte Miller."

"Nice to meet you," he replied, extending a hand toward me. I swallowed hard as we shook hands—my palms were covered in nervous sweat—and quickly drew back, hoping he wouldn't wipe his hand on his robes.

The Ravenclaw with him didn't bother to introduce herself, and I coughed uncomfortably as she and James began to snog enthusiastically. I glanced over at Alice, but she was staring at the couple as if her dreams had just been cruelly crushed before her very eyes. In a way, I supposed they had.

The carriage ride was far too long, and when they stopped at last I was more than grateful to escape the awkward atmosphere. James bid us good-bye with another rogue smirk, and Alice barely squeaked out a "Bye!" back before looping my arm round hers and pulling me out of earshot. "I can't believe he has a girlfriend!" she hissed.

"I can," I muttered. Alice rolled her eyes.

"Out of all the girls at Hogwarts, he had to pick _her_…"

As she fumed, I alternated between shaking my head in disbelief and making vague noises of agreement as I always did when she went off on a rant. We entered the Great Hall and went over to the Hufflepuff table, where Grace had saved us seats. My stomach began to growl as soon as I saw the golden plates and empty goblets.

While Alice filled the other girls in on what had happened in the carriage, I surveyed the Hall. The teachers were sitting up at the staff table, looking relaxed and content. The new Headmistress, Professor Sinistra, who had taken over from McGonagall the year before I'd started Hogwarts, was talking happily with Alice's father, Neville, and the Hufflepuff head of House, Professor Sprout, was watching our table with a satisfied expression on her face. She smiled widely at me, and I gave a small wave back.

Turning back to my friends' conversation (I was used to zoning out when they really got chattering) I noticed with dismay that they were still on the topic of James Potter's interest in them (or lack thereof, as it were). "Listen, it's not the end of the world," I tried to say. "I fancied him in second year, but after a while I realized it would never work. He'd probably break up with you after a shag or two, anyway."

They all stared at me in astonishment. Too late, I realized that perhaps my objectivity about the Potter family wasn't working in my favour this time. They were all quite close to the Potters, so they weren't used to someone speaking about James so candidly.

"It's not that, Char," Alice said, sighing. "I know James is decent. It's just that he's a rebel and that's what girls want, right? They like the bad guys."

"Well, good luck reforming him," I muttered under my breath. I'd never been interested in the so-called "bad guys". Honestly, they just seemed like more trouble than they were worth. All I wanted was someone kind and loyal who I could trust with my life. Perhaps it was stereotypically Hufflepuff of me, but I couldn't help it. "What about another Potter or Weasley kid?" I continued. "There's no shortage of them."

It was true—I'd given up trying to keep track of the numerous Weasley children years ago. My eyes flickered over to the Gryffindor table, where I could easily pick out the trademark red hair among the scarlet robes.

Not _every_ member of that family was in Gryffindor, though. There were a few scattered in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and one in Slytherin.

There were two other Potter children besides James, though they weren't nearly as well-known (or infamous, if you like) as he was. The youngest one, Lily, was a fourth-year Gryffindor. She had a head full of thick, dark red hair that was the envy of all the girls, and inquisitive brown eyes. She seemed to be popular within her circle of Gryffindor friends, and was one of the Beaters on the Quidditch team, along with her Chaser older brother. I'd dropped my books all over the Grand Staircase once and she'd helped me pick them up, so I'd always harbored a liking toward her.

The middle Potter, however, was a bit more of a mystery. Albus was in Slytherin—the lone member of the Weasley-Potter clan in the House—and the quietest. In fact, I'd only heard him speak a couple of times, and though I'd had a few classes with him through the years I still felt as if he was a complete stranger. He was short and had messy dark hair—I had to admit he wasn't as good-looking as his older brother. Even though he was on the Slytherin Quidditch team (Seeker) and being on the Quidditch team was usually an instant ticket to popularity, he seemed to be a loner. From what Alice told me, he spent most of his time in the library and was very introspective. He used to wear a pair of large, round black glasses, giving him the appearance of an oversized owl, but the summer before third year he appeared to have gotten his eyes fixed and had stopped wearing them. He was best friends with fellow Slytherin Scorpius Malfoy, which had been a huge shock to most people since, apparently, their fathers had been worst enemies when _they _went to Hogwarts.

On top of all that, Albus's cousin, Rose Weasley, was in Gryffindor and the third member of their trio. The three of them were inseparable, but as the years passed curiosity in the odd grouping had slowly dwindled until most people had gotten used to the idea. I turned my head to the Slytherin table, where Albus and Scorpius were sitting together. Scorpius was quite handsome, with white-blond hair and gray eyes. I noticed him grinning at Rose Weasley, who was scowling back at him while tucking her hair behind her ear. Albus seemed oblivious to this display of blatant flirting; instead he was looking around the room. I continued to watch him until, suddenly, our eyes locked.

I quickly looked down at my plate, hoping I wouldn't blush. When I chanced a glance back up at him, he was still staring at me, frowning slightly as if trying to figure out why I had been looking at him.

"Oh, Merlin!" Alice giggled. "Char, you did _not _just check out Albus Potter!"

"I wasn't!" I exclaimed, tearing my gaze from his. "I was just looking around the room and I saw him—"

"No wonder you didn't care about James," Lauren laughed.

"Guys, seriously, I didn't mean to—" I began, but they weren't listening to me anymore—if they ever had been in the first place. Cheeks flushing with embarrassment, I kept my eyes fixed on my plate and didn't look at Albus Potter for the rest of the evening.

* * *

**Although Charlotte's friends are OCs, I gave them relationships to canon characters so they'll (hopefully) be easier to keep track of. Grace is the daughter of Oliver Wood, Paige is the daughter of Dennis Creevey, and Lauren Finch-Fletchley is the daughter of Justin Finch-Fletchley. (They will be fairly minor characters at any rate.)**


End file.
